


Leistung

by Too_Many_Usernames



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Asylum, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Character Turned Into Vampire, F/F, M/M, Maternal Nott, Mental Institutions, Multi, Vampires, institutionalisation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-03-01 08:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Many_Usernames/pseuds/Too_Many_Usernames
Summary: Bren had known about vampires, of course he had, but he’d never really understood them. That had changed entirely the first time Bren met Trent Ikithon.And in much the same way, Bren hadn’t understood power until Trent Ikithon had fed him his blood.





	1. Bren

Bren had known about vampires, of course he had, but he’d never really understood them. They seemed -bogeymen, more than real creatures, convenient villains. He had heard tales of vampires creeping into the houses of children who disobeyed their parents, and horror stories of clans of ferals that attacked travellers in the wilderness. That had changed entirely the first time Bren met Trent Ikithon.

And in much the same way, Bren hadn’t understood power until Trent Ikithon had fed him his blood.

-

They met Trent Ikithon properly a year into their education. The three of them had seen him every now and then around the academy, he had given the odd special lecture on magical theory, but even within the academy, he was an elusive figure. So, when the three of them had received three identical notes inviting them to his study for ‘private tuition’ they had no idea what they were in for.

‘’What do you think he wants from us?’’ Astrid asked, stretching her long limbs like a cat as she lounged across the two of them, all curled up on Bren’s bed.

‘’I dunno, kinky student teacher stuff?’’ Eodwulf proposed, wriggling his eyebrows as he wrestled Astrid off of him.

‘’Isn’t it obvious?’’ Bren asked dryly, looking up from his book, uninterested in their play-fighting. ‘’We are the top of our classes. I can’t imagine it means anything but what he says; special tutorship.’’

Looking back on it, he had been right, in a way. That night, long after lights-out, they had entered a dimly lit office and Trent had asked in a calm, serious voice, how much they knew about vampires. He had curled his lips up in a humourless smile at their confused silence, to reveal sharp, white fangs. There was an offer then; one that had seemed so simple at the time. Power, in return for loyalty. He would make them so _strong_.

-

They were different now. Better. More capable of serving the Empire than anyone else they learned alongside. But then again, they rarely saw the others they’d enrolled with. They had surpassed them.

All thanks to the small bottles of Trent’s blood they drank every day.

Trent had told them all it would change them, and it did. They were stronger, faster, smarter. Loyal to Trent above the academy but of course always loyal to the empire. But then, Trent was the empire. His will was theirs.

Ikithon had said that they would be referred to as ‘Thralls’ by some, whilst scoffing at the term. They were not servants; he had insisted that. They were simply borrowing some of his power, with the promise that it would one day increase to be more capable of serving the empire. And of course, everything he did for them, surely, he could expect some compensation for such an award?

They’d long since left the academy, learning in Trent’s private house, safe from the prying eyes and questions of humans who could not understand them – that might, in their foolish naivete, keep them from their true role serving the empire, and perhaps one day, when they were powerful enough – leading it.

It was by no means, easy. Along with new strength, the blood changed them, physically. Their eyes had reddened, their skin grew itchy in the sun, and their incisors turned into more prominent points. At times they turned… testy. When the lessons ended, the three of them would fight and fuck for hours until they fell into a crumpled heap, bloody and bruised but sated.

The lessons got harder, of course. They needed to learn to be strong, so Trent would test their limits along with his experiments, pushing crystals into their skin, unleashing energy that felt it would consume them until it poured from their fingertips in uncontrollable magic. It was pain like they had never felt, but worth it. Trent had promised.

There were practical lessons as well – someone who had crossed Trent, that needed to be disposed of before they posed a threat to all of them, someone with vital information he needed, people that defied the empire with heretical, and evil gods. They could make the empire clean, pry out the filth that tainted their homeland. And they would.

-

Trent turned them all in the forests outside Blumenthal. And Bren thought he had felt pain before – but it was nothing compared to _this_. It felt as though his blood had boiled, and turned to dust in his veins, that his skin had splintered and cracked open to reveal something underneath that was not there before. That every bone in his body had reshaped itself into a new, incomprehensible form. He wasn’t even sure it was over when he finally rose, eyes opening to see everything in such detail, every blade of glass distinct from each other and such colour he never knew was possible for something so innocuous as grass. When he breathed in, he could smell _everything_. The moss growing on the tree in the distance, a rabbit far to his left, and he could hear water rushing – his brain supplied him with the fact that the nearest river was an hour walk away. It was astounding. It was agonising.

He looked to the others, seeking the kind of unspoken support they gave each other – but he found none. Eodwulf was curled in on himself, making a sound that was a mix of a whimper and a snarl, and Astrid, pacing tentatively, sharp nails dragging into the sides of her arm.

Trent watches them, his face blank and unreadable, across the clearing, long thin fingers folded over his staff. He rises.

‘‘It is time. Destroy the traitors. Return to the manor when you are finished and we shall continue your careers. Consider this,’’ he waved a robed hand lazily, gesturing towards the direction of the small collection of houses they used to call home, ‘‘a final exam. Do not disappoint.’’ He turned, with a sweep of his robe, and teleported away.

Bren – who always knows the exact time, has no idea how long passes before any of them move.

It’s Astrid, because of course it is, who finally blinks them out of their stupor. Her eyes – once a cool grey and now a burning red look across them.

‘’It is time’’ She repeats.

They descend on the village like vultures. Bren burns, Astrid sparks lightening and Eodwulf tears.

They all drink. And drink. And drink.

And gods, it is beautiful. It is pleasure and power like they have never felt before and they are so powerful over these tiny, mewling creatures. Their attacks are nothing – a tiny village like this barely has enough to outfit the old, drunk guardsman in weapons strong enough to defeat wolves, let alone freshly turned vampires. Bren enjoys tearing his throat out.

 He just _enjoys_.

Until a scream cuts through the rest of the meaningless noise.

_Mutter._

He can’t see Astrid, or Eodwulf anymore. He can’t see anything except his house, his home up in flames. He can’t even remember lighting them. He sprints towards the house, up that winding path he’d been up so many times and bursts through the door. Smoke billows out into his face – but it doesn’t matter to him. All that matters is the two figures in the room; his father, facedown and unmoving - the figure of his mother, trapped under a fallen beam, tears streaming clean lines down her soot smoked face. She looks up at him and screams, shaky and moaning.

‘’Bren… _Liebing_ – please’’ she whimpers, covering her face. Bren doesn’t understand what she wants, what she’s asking for. Why would she want to live if she was so _weak?_

And then he sees his reflection across the room, reflected in an old copper pot. His mouth is covered in blood, and gore – his eyes gleaming violently from his soot-covered face.

Oh.

That’s why she’s screaming.

Because he’s a monster.

And then all his certainties fall away.

His certainty that all of this was worth it, for the power. His certainty that he had heard them speaking of betraying the empire.

He had been so certain, and he had been so wrong.

And his mother stops screaming.

And he breaks.

 

 


	2. Nott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some trigger warnings for this chapter in particular; ableism, the threat of non-con, Caleb and Nott typical self-loathing.

“Throw it in with that monster; should be fun to watch them tear each other apart’’ Nott snarled at the guards as they throw her into the dingy cell, bouncing her into dank hay. She snarls again, leaping at the bars, rattling them and yelling mindlessly. She doesn’t expect a response, but still kicks the hay dejectedly as she jumps down.

She squints into the gloom, looking for this supposed monster that was supposed to tear her apart. All she sees is a humanoid, wrapped up in a raggedy brown coat, red-haired and red eyes peeking nervously over his collar, pressed in the corner of the cell, away from the few rays of sunshine that leaked into the cell. She snarls, challengingly, and he winces, curling in on himself further, to Nott's surprise.

She shrugs, dropping down to the floor. Well, it’s not gonna be tearing her apart any time soon. She curls into the hay – it’s got a nice, musty smell – the sort of familiar filth Nott enjoys these days. If the creature in the corner isn’t gonna bother her she might as well enjoy some warm hay and free food before making her way out of here. She’ll figure it out. Always does.

-

When Nott wakes, she is relieved to find herself not in several pieces. The humanoid is whimpering, eyes scrunched up in restless sleep. Nott scuttles forwards a little, examining its face. It’s a human male, with long red hair that curls around his shoulders, a scraggly beard. He whimpers again, twitching in his sleep. Gods, he’s thin. His cheeks are sunken, his skin pale in a way she’s certain is unhealthy for humans. He looks young too, skin smooth under all the dirt.

She feels that little pang inside her, the unspent maternal energy she feels whenever she sees something small and weak. But she’s a goblin now and weakness is easy to exploit. She scoffs a little at her own stupidity, turning back to her corner of the cell.

When she curls back into her corner, she finds the man is watching her. There’s something in his eyes that seems... distinctly inhuman. Neither Nott nor Veth ever had too much experience with humans, but she’s fairly sure their eyes don’t glow like that, or come in that blood red colour. It makes her uncomfortable. She snarls, jutting her head out towards him defensively. He recoils, burying his head back in his coat.

A few hours later a guard strolls by, peers into the gloom of the cell at the two of them, both confined to their corners and scoffs, throwing in a bowl of grey mush, and bread that seems so stale it could crack the floor.

Nott leaps into action, grabbing the food and tearing into it, hunched over to protect her bounty from the man in the corner. She jerks her head back, ready to give another warning snarl, but he hasn’t moved from his spot. He seems to have barely noticed the guard there.

The man leering over them seems to have noticed them and seems bothered by this.

‘’Huh. Guess he’s not gonna need it anyway, right? Might as well fatten you up.’’ He sneers, kicking the iron bars to make them rattle loudly. He sighs loudly. ‘’Boring-ass shitstain town.’’ He mutters under his breath, turning back to the jail cell. He bends down, picks up a rock, and chucks it at the man through the bars. It hits him, squarely in the forehead. But he doesn’t move, just tucks into himself.

‘’Hey! Do something interesting!’’ He calls into the gloom at the man. Nott hears keys rattling, and she scrambles into the other corner, clutching the last of her bread. His attention was on the ginger man for now, but Nott was well acquainted with hatred turning on her quickly. If she could be small, unseen, she could be forgotten.

Nott closes her eyes, the sound of the man's pained cries ringing throughout the cell along with the sound of the dull thuds of the guards’ blows.

She peeks out behind the corner of her hood, to see the guardsman lifting him up by his collar, pressing him against the stone wall of the cell.

‘’Well? What are you gonna do? Bite me?’’ the man’s eyes are screwed closed, whimpering against the guard’s presence, inches from his face. He laughs, cruelly and sharply, dropping the man who crumples into a heap. ‘’Pathetic monster.’’ He sneers and spits on the huddled figure. ‘’I’ll be back for you later.’’

There’s silence for a long time, as both of them unfurl from their positions as the fear begins to drain from the room, that great weight lightening just a little, the threat of return pushing down on them still. Nott watches the man, as he drags himself back into the shady corner.

‘’Are… you alright?’’ she asks tentatively. She moves a step forward, still clutching her stale treasure.

‘’You… you can have the bread if you want.’’ She moves closer, bending down in the ray of sunlight, dropping the bread next to him.

‘’Please… stay away…’’ his voice comes out croaky, and hoarse, as though he’s not spoken for months.

Oh. Of course, she’s a goblin, how could she forget. He remembered what the guard had called him – and she didn’t understand – she’s the monster. Her shoulders fall, feeling stupid

Maybe he sees something in her eyes, but his expression softens.  

‘’It’s not – it’s me. Please, I might hurt you…’’ Nott doesn’t understand how. He’s so small and weak. And Nott is scrappy, resourceful and quick, she could take on one puny human – especially one so skinny, fresh off a beating.

‘’I could handle you.’’ She says proudly, lowering back into her corner. ‘’People call me Nott the Brave, you know.’’ She’s bluffing, but she needn’t share with this man all the ways she is just… not. He is watching her tentatively, and opens his mouth again.

‘’I-I’m… Caleb. Widogast.’’

‘’Caleb.’’ She says, turning it over in her mouth. She liked it. ‘’When he comes back… I’m worried about what he might do. He seemed… handsy.’’ Nott was familiar with guards like that – whose greatest threat was boredom, and took it out on their prisoners. Nott, small and ugly as she was, would usually just get a beating, maybe be deprived food. Nott didn’t really understand what humans looked for in other humans, but she thought he was probably handsome… in a weird, human way. The handsome ones had it rough.

‘’Ja… ja I just – need to control…’’

‘’Well. I could pick the lock. If I had anything to pick it with’’ She said, patting herself down for any remaining trinkets the guards may have forgotten about. No luck. Caleb watches her carefully across the room.

‘’What would you need?’’ He asks, tentatively, curiously. Nott squats in her hay, braiding some pieces together.

‘’Something bendy.’’ She pokes her hay braid at the lock dejectedly. ‘’Metal. A wire – hairpin?’’ She shrugs, flopping back into the hay and tying her braid into her lanky green hair.

‘’Maybe I could – ‘’ Caleb trails off, and snaps his fingers, and suddenly a scraggly ginger tabby appears in the cell. Gods, but that looks tasty – Nott licks her lips, and the cat looks up at her with a warning snarl. Caleb holds his arms out, and the cat leaps into them. He presses it tight to his chest, and Nott exhales – suppose the magical cat wasn’t a viable meal then.

‘’Can you help us, my friend?’’ He whispers into the cat’s fur, rising for the first time from his corner, to lift the cat to the small bars at the top of the cell. It slinks through the bars, revealing sharp bones showing through the fur. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the best meal after all.

‘’Frumpkin will try and find you a wire, ja?’’ He said, slinking back down the wall. Before she could respond, his eyes had rolled back into his head, a tension loosening in his shoulders. Nott leaned forwards again, watching curiously. She crept forwards a little, taking a piece of hay to poke at him. His eyes stayed fogged; his body motionless. Nott shrugged, curling back into her hay pile, an eye trained on this man.

In both lives, she was largely unfamiliar with magic. But cats appearing out of nowhere was hardly mundane. Caleb Widogast had been… nice to her, so far. He hadn’t _tried_ to hurt her, hadn’t even seemed too repulsed by her goblinoid form.

But a man with magic, who’d warned her about his capability to hurt her… a healthy amount of paranoia had kept her alive up until now, so she was keeping an eye on this man.

-

_It felt so wrong seeing him like this. Eodwulf wasn’t sure which was worse – when he was lost to the blood frenzy or when he was just… empty. Gone. He was gone this time, blood dripping from his mouth, staining his slight, grizzled beard, eyes strained, yet distant._

_Eodwulf and Astrid watched, hidden under hooded cloaks, as the attendants dragged the meal Bren was done with away, neck bloody, and groaning. Some criminal filth locked up in the asylum._

_He drew a small purse from underneath his cloak and threw it towards an expectant worker. Eodwulf slipped them enough that Bren would stay well fed. He’d never come back to them if he was lost in a blood frenzy. Astrid stepped forwards, lowering her hood and kneeling in front of him, taking one of his dirty hands, trying to make eye contact._

_‘’Hey Bren, I know it’s been a while… we’ve been busy, I’m sorry. Our duties to the empire have grown – Master Ikithon has kept us occupied.’’ Bren made a little whimpering sound, empty eyes flitting away from Astrid’s. She glanced back up at him, Panicked, and Eodwulf joined her on the floor._

_‘’When you come back to us, you’ll join us, we won’t let you be left behind, Bren. You always were a quick study, you’ll catch up.’’ He said, sitting next to him. Bren said nothing, eyes still staring dead ahead. Eodwuld sighed, reaching for his satchel and rising. ‘’We bought you some things. Blankets, some more books – something about folklore on the menagerie coast, a language book – ‘’ Eodwulf trailed off, adding the books to the pile. Gods, they were_ dusty _. It had been months since they’d been here, and the books they’d bought last time seemed untouched. He thinks back to Bren’s tiny, beloved pile of books in Blumenthal, read over and over again, and how he tore through the libraries at the academy, arguing with the librarian about how many he could take out at once, how his eyes lit up in Master Ikithon’s library._

_He was a shell of his old self, that old charm and bright mind that they had fallen in love with was just… gone. Sometimes he felt this was just a stranger, wearing his love’s face._

_Eodwulf sighed, sitting on the rickety bed, laying out the new quilted blanket to replace the thin, scratchy rag from before, watching Astrid using magic to clean the blood from Bren’s face._

_‘’I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Astrid.’’ He says, voice low and solemn. She shoots him a severe look._

_‘’You’re really trying to have this conversation_ here _, Wulf?’’_

_‘’Why not, he can’t hear us. He never understands when we talked to him. Might as well be talking to the wall.’’_

_‘’Shut up Wulf!’’ She said, rising with a snarl. ‘’He’s going to come back. We just need to be patient, Master Ikithon says-’’_

_‘’- We’re deluding ourselves, Astrid, if we really believed Trent then we wouldn’t be sneaking out to come to see him, We’d not bribe the guard to say we were never here. This isn’t fucking healthy, Astrid’’ He said urgently, taking her hands. ‘’We can’t keep doing this to ourselves.’’ His voice hitching. Astrid sighed, rubbing her thumb against the side of his hand, leaning in to press her forehead to his._

_‘’It’s always been the three of us… it feels so wrong to leave him behind.’’_

_‘’that’s not – that’s not Bren, not anymore, not our Bren. He might as well be dead.’’ Astrid tore away, looking back to Bren, whose arms were braced over his head, whimpering at the raised voices._

_‘’Were fucking immortal, Wulf. We… We have time. We’ll fix him.’’_

-

Nott was prompted awake by a wet nose and a meow. Ah bollocks, there goes her vigilance. Caleb was watching her from his corner, with Frumpkin hovering above her. Nott gave a little warning growl, and Frumpkin hissed, running back to his master, to perch on his shoulders.

‘’I uh – Frumpkin found something.’’ He said, with a nervous apologetic laugh. Nott looked down, to see a small, slightly bent wire on the stone floor. Nott grinned, snatching up the small treasure, examining it intently.

‘’Oh yeah. I can use this’’ She said with relish, ambling towards the lock. ‘’Any ideas on how to deal with the guards? She asked, throwing a look over her shoulder. Caleb cleared his throat.

‘’Well – it seems these guards are not too dedicated to their jobs, ja? If they feel threatened, I doubt they will face it with much bravery.’’ Nott hummed in agreement as she worked on the lock.

‘’I know I may seem threatening but uh... that didn’t work before. And you’re, uh…’’ She thought about a way to phrase it delicately, that he was slight and dirty and smelly and shy and unimposing. ‘’Well you have no fangs or anything.’’ Nott thought she heard a chuckle behind her.

‘’You may be right in that my friend. I can uh… light a fire – call for help, and maybe we can just… walk out.’’ It seemed as good an idea as any she could think of, most of which involved non-existent explosives, she pondered as the final tumbler locked into place with a satisfying thud.

‘’Holla’’ She muttered triumphantly, jumping down from the lock. ‘’Light your fire, Widogast!’’

-

Caleb had been right. As soon as the guards had smelled smoke, and heard their exaggerated yells for help they’d fled, leaving the two of them to just walk out of that Podunk jail unchallenged. Had fled into the woods, hand in hand, unchallenged.

And then they’d just kept walking. Caleb said they were going North, but in the darkness, Nott had no idea how he could possibly tell. She kept looking up at him, his face blank yet determined. Any moment Nott expected him to stop walking, tell her to leave him alone already, kick her into the dirt and call her a filthy goblin – but instead he just kept holding her hand. And eventually, when they stopped, they stopped together. Said that ‘they’ should build a fire. That ‘they’ should rest for the night. Not just him. Not just her. But them.

And when Nott awoke that night, to look over the fire and see him gone she was devastated, and rolled over to curl in on herself and her tears. But when she woke in the morning, he was there.

And from then on, he stayed.

It didn’t take long for Nott to discover what Caleb really was. In the wild, he _hunted_ for them. Nott always wanted to offer – after all, she was the marksman and had hunted before, he was just a skinny little wizard – but he’d always just slip away and do it for them. Even then, he wouldn’t eat much with her. With Caleb hunting for her she was more well-fed than she’d been in _years_ – even frumpkin was getting a little fatter, a little less scraggly.

Caleb had a tendency to disappear at night when they were in civilisation. But then, they had separate pursuits. Caleb always sought a library, Nott always sought shiny trinkets. Trinkets were easier to steal at night, maybe books were better found at night?

One night, finding Caleb gone from their room, Nott goes looking for him – he’d helped her before with her thefts, pulling cons and distractions as she grabbed pretty things, no doubt it was time to return the favour. She found him a few streets over, coupled in a man's embrace. Nott startled, her face flushing with embarrassment – of course, he was a man of childbearing age, no doubt he would seek _company_ she couldn’t provide him with – she’s about to turn and flee when she notices – from where Caleb is kissing the man’s neck – blood.

And then things click into place. She watches, as Caleb finishes, withdrawing from the man and forcing his dropping head up to make eye contact.

‘’ _Forget._ You feel unwell. Get home. _Forget._ ’’ He says as he tightens the man’s scarf. His voice is stronger and more forceful than Nott has ever heard from him.

The man stumbles out of the alleyway, a glazed, drunken look, and disappears into the city. Caleb wipes his mouth on the back of his ragged sleeve and exhales dejectedly.

‘’ _Shciesse_ ’’ He whispers to himself turning his head towards the sky. He looks so… defeated, dejected. Loathing. Nott knows what it is to hate yourself. To think you are a monster.

And he’s a monster. Just like her.

Nott smiles softly and slips into the alleyway towards him. Eyes screwed closed and distracted he doesn’t notice her until she’s slipping her hand into his.

His eyes flit to her, full of fear and horror. But hers are soft, reassuring, hopeful.

‘’We’re not alone Caleb, neither of us. Not anymore.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow Nott is difficult to write with the dichotomy of goblin but still Veth inside.  
> Thinking the narrative of this fic is gonna have the perspective of the member of the Mighty Nein, following a narrative.  
> Also going with my headcanon that Frumpkin reflects Caleb's own mental/physical state and comes back as different cats.  
> Also Also don't really know anything about dnd lore vampires, so I'm doing my own, some relevant things from this chapter - sunlight hurts but isn't fatal, Vampires do age but slowly so Caleb looks a bit younger than in Canon, and vampires have the suggest spell.


	3. Beau

Beauregard was smart, she knew this. Though she hated to even think it, the Cobalt Soul had taught her well – and though she’d never admit it, there were several lessons she took a shine too. One of these was mythology, fantastical creatures and how to combat them. She was well prepared to defend against trolls, fey, ocean creatures. Vampires. She clocked Caleb pretty quickly. Realised he was a shady motherfucker; didn’t realise he was a motherfucker who loved the shade.

Heh.

She’d been pretty proud when she thought that one up.

Beau didn’t trust him. At all. He was shifty and flighty and that kind of paranoia has got to come from _somewhere_. She’s all too familiar with paranoia. But just as little as she trusted him, it seemed he trusted them less.

Maybe it’s just her, but she can’t help but feel how _obvious_ Caleb is.

He’s pale, keeps most of his skin covered in raggedy bandages. He’s skinny to an almost worryingly extent – she remembers in the bathhouse seeing his ribs, the bumps of his spine stretched uncomfortably taught against that semi-translucent skin. But he’s _strong_ and _fast_. In short bursts, perhaps, and he always looks surprised, a little nervous when anyone sees. And his persuasive magic seems far too strong for a wizard who could be knocked over by a stiff breeze.

And then there’s the fact that he barely ever eats. He picks at meals, let’s Nott steal meat off his plate far more than can be healthy.

Beauregard wonders how he feeds. It can’t be from Nott – she’s so tiny it’d probably be like the vampiric equivalent to a boring appetiser at one of her mother’s boring parties.

But like, bad. Probably. She didn’t have a marker for blood types. Just kinda assumed goblin wouldn’t be tasty. Earthy, probably. Wasn’t really any of her business.

Beauregard had the common decency to stay out of other people’s business, long as it didn’t affect her.

But it was starting too.

They’d been on the road for weeks, and in cities, she assumed Caleb was able to take care of himself, out in the middle of nowhere it was less easy. In evenings he’d disappear for a few hours. Sometimes he’d bring back meat, told them he’d been practising his spells and had gone hunting. Out on the road, they were so happy for fresh meat they wouldn’t question a warm full meal.

Caleb would still pick at his food and was often gone long after sundown.

Didn’t really affect her, though, so Beau didn’t care.

 Jester did. But Jester’s capacity for giving a shit is so much greater than Beau’s, she thinks fondly as she watches Jester flit around the campfire nervously, twisting her rings around her fingers.

Beau and Nott were on watch, an eye out for Caleb.

‘’He’s not back yet, Beauuuuu what if he’s hurt? I’m supposed to be a healer who can I heal if Caleb falls in a ditch and dies?’’ She moaned with a pout, flopping down in front of the fire in a poof of skirts, resting her head in the cradle of her hands.

‘’What’s he even doing? We still got leftover meat from last time he went to practice his spells.’’ She said, pouting and drawing shapes in the dirt.

‘’Oh! You know, probably just out there um…’’ Nott trailed off looking skittishly around the fire at Beau.

‘’Whatever he’s probably just taking a really long shit or whatever.’’ She drawled casually, propping herself up on her elbows.

‘’Oh yes, that’s our Caleb! Always… super constipated! I’m always telling him how he should eat more fibre… some cereals… special CAY-leb, if you will.’’ Nott laughed, higher pitch than usual. Beau shot her a confused look. Jester giggled.

‘’I bet I can heal him… but the Traveller might just give him the shits.’’ She said with another giggle, admiring her nails, worry seemingly forgotten.

‘’Get some sleep, Jes, we’ll keep an eye out for him.’’

‘’Okaayyy’’ She drawled loudly, picking herself up heavily. ‘’Tell him he's not allowed to worry me anymore okay? I don’t like it when we go far from each other…’’ Her voice took on a heavier tone, tinged with a beat of real worry.

‘’We will, Jes.’’ Beau said, softer this time. Jester nodded, turning back to where the others were sleeping and snuggling in beside a sleeping Fjord. Beau waited a moment, till she heard Jester's soft snores before turning to look at Nott, pointedly.

‘’He’s kinda obvious, you know.’’ She said flatly, her voice lowered as she folded her arms.

‘’With his constipation? Well – um, hard thing to be discreet about I suppose, what with all the poops-‘’

Beau cut her off, fixing her with a withering look.

‘’You know what I’m talking about, Nott. Hard not realise his ‘target practice’ are always conveniently drained of blood.’’ 

Nott fell quiet for a moment. The nervous warmth had drained from her face, in its place was a cold, protective shell.  When she speaks again it is quiet, low, and serious.

‘’He’s not a monster. No more than I am. Just because we are disgusting creatures doesn’t mean we have to be _monstrous_ ; I’ve never seen him hurt anyone, not badly, not even when he could have died.’’

‘’Relax, Nott. I’m not gonna run you off or anything. I’m just saying – he’s obvious. It’s not for me to judge. You were the one who bought up the whole monster thing.’’ Nott fell quiet then, tucking her head into her knees. Beau was filled with a pang of regret. _Stupid dumbass why did you fucking say that just wanna hurt her feelings goddamn you’re disgusting._

‘’Nott I – I don’t think either of you are monsters.’’ She coughs. ‘’For, uh, whatever it’s worth.’’

Nott peaks out from the defensive curled position she’d taken, her eyes still wary as she looked Beau up and down.

‘’Beau. He’s my boy. Leave him alone.’’ Her voice was low, strong. Defensive. Beau fell silent.

_Great going, idiot. Fucked up again now they’re gonna be more distant than ever why did you have to run your big stupid mouth obviously you’re not gonna make it better you never make anything better you asshole._

They were silent for a while after that, keeping watch around a dwindling fire. Nott was skittish, glancing up at her out of the corner of her eye every few minutes before returning to scan the horizon, for potential threats, or her boy. She supposed Nott was also watching for the threat to her boy – her.

Beau fell silent. An hour passed, perhaps less, when Caleb finally emerged from the bushes. His hair was tangled up in knots, and beyond his dirt-smeared face, there was a distant look in his eyes. She looks for any trace of blood smeared across his lips as if hoping some obliviousness might prove her point. There’s none, his eyes just seem brighter, healthier, perhaps.

‘’Try any spells?’’ Beauregard ventured quietly. He looks up as if surprised to see her addressing him.

‘’Hm... Ja.’’ He responds abruptly, vaguely, not really focusing on her, or elaborating.

‘’Right I’m going to bed. You go wake up Molly, Nott. I’m too tired to deal with him.’’ Beau turned on her heels, dropping her bo staff and curling up into her bedroll. She tries desperately to fall asleep but her mind is filled with the racing thoughts. Has she fucked up? Is she gonna wake tomorrow to find Nott and Caleb gone? Is Caleb gonna retreat inside himself completely, become an overthinking shell, useless to the group? Is he gonna see a threat in her knowing exactly who she is, try and take her out? Her mind is racing and the last thing she can do is sleep.

She doesn’t hear Molly waking up. She just hears the quiet crackle of the fire. Finally, Nott speaks, her voice quiet.

‘’Did you eat?’’

‘’Oh – ja, found a doe. I’ll be fine for a while.’’

‘’You don’t like deer, do you?’’ Beau thinks her voice is strangely soft, affectionate, as though they’re talking about a fussy child who doesn’t want to eat his vegetables, rather than a gods-knows-how-old vampire. But then, he is her boy.

‘’It’s just… not the same. Taste’s wrong.’’ Caleb says, his voice a tad defensive. They go quiet for a while, and Beau hopes that they just go wake up Molly for his watch and not talk about her being stupid and telling-

‘’She knows. About you.’’

Caleb is silent, for what feels like an age. Beau strains her ears waiting for his reply.

‘’Do I- do we need to run?’’ His voice is emotionless, serious.  

‘’I don’t think she’s gonna hurt you… I don’t know if she’s gonna tell the others.’’ There’s silence again after that, nothing but the whisper of wind and crackle of the fire.

‘’Caleb if we need to, I’ll run with you. I promise – always. But… I have a good feeling about this – about these people – I think we should… see how it goes? I know that’s – I know that’s dangerous and if they threaten you about _it_ – we’ll go but I…’’

‘’You like them.’’ His voice is tinged with affection.

‘’Maybe I do!’’

‘’Can you…?’’ Beau turns, cracking one eye open to see Nott padding over and sliding under Caleb’s arm, snuggling in next to him with a satisfied hum. Beau can’t see her face from this angle, but she knows she’s grinning.

 _Her boy_ , Beau thinks, as she finally closes her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever and this is super short and I had planned to make this a much longer chapter but hey I don't write long fics well, take this for now


	4. Jester

Jester titled her head, tongue stuck out as she perfected her sketch of an increasingly exasperated Mollymauk trying to flirt with an oblivious Caleb, leaning against the bar in the damp tavern they had chosen for the night. She added hearts on her sketch of Molly, tail drooping sadly, and stink lines for Caleb, deep in a book with thick round glasses – artistic liberties perhaps but he might as well have been for the attention he was giving Mollymauk.

She rested her pencil, pushing forth her little sketchbook, as an offering to the Traveller. She feels a warmth over her hand, a flash of green out the corner of her eye and that warm familiar voice whispers in her ear with a rich chuckle

‘’Well…we’ll have to do something about that, won't we?’’

She grinned as she felt the presence disappear, swinging her legs happily to be given a task to divert from the boring job they’d taken from the Gentleman – something about catching up with an employee of the Gentleman who he hadn’t heard from in a while and seeing what the problem was. It had the potential for excitement but the slow travel through small towns and villages was unceasingly dull. Most of these people were so bleak and miserable Jester felt bad playing too extravagant a prank on. She’d resorted to light graffiti, making shop names into puns, adding boobs where boobs did not belong.

She returned to the sketchbook, sketching an unidentified pair of eyes. She hesitated for a moment, adding a dab of red, accentuating the lines underneath. Caleb’s real eyes were so _pretty_ , she thought as she hummed a little, blending the red of his eyes. She’d seen them when they tried to go to the Tri-spires district, his glamour dispelled when he’d turned to her, piercing red eyes wide and surprised.

He’d turned away from her then, hiding his head in his scarf until he’d re-illusioned the old Zemnian blues.

Jester thought the red was way more interesting than normal old blue. The more she’d travelled though, the more she realised that mayybeee technicallyyy it was really uncommon for humans to have glowing red eyes.

But then, Jester didn’t look normal either, and she was still beautiful. Her mama had always told her it was her specialness that made her so beautiful, like a sapphire. Jester missed her mama, because sometimes when people recoiled in the street or spat ‘devil’ at her, she didn’t feel like such a pretty sapphire.

Maybe Caleb felt the way about his eyes as mean people made her feel about her… all of her. Jester knew how shitty that was. She bet there were people who made him feel that way. She ought to help him, maybe they could help each other. The rest of the Mighty Nein seemed so Beau with her edginess, Fjord handsomeness, Yasha’s strength, Nott’s graceful speed, Molly’s vibrant confidence. Molly’s… just everything. She bet he never listened to the people that whispered in the streets.

Maybe that’s why Molly and Caleb seemed to be spending more time together recently.

Jester jumped up out of her seat, skipping over towards the bar.

‘’Heyyyy Caleb, Molly.’’

‘’Jester, darling! How the hell are you?’’ Molly asked, flashing one of his winning smiles at her, though there seemed a hint of annoyance behind his red eyes.

‘’Me and Caleb gotta talk, real serious stuff.’’ She said with a firm nod.

‘’Oh?’’ He arched a purple brow, glancing at Caleb, whose face was blank. ‘’Well… I’ll go bother Beauregard I suppose. Remember kids, use protection!’’ he said with a wink, pushing away from the bar, and sauntering towards a hungover Beau, lying face down on one arm, the other curled around a flagon. Caleb followed Mollymauk with his eyes a moment, before turning to look at her, a tad confused.

‘’Hallo Jester, is something wrong?’’

‘’Don’t you think Molly has such pretty red eyes?’’ She said, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

‘’Oh – uh, Ja I suppose so.’’

‘’And – you know? I think you have really pretty eyes too, Caleb.’’

‘’Uh – thank you?’’

‘’Especially when they’re red! Like when we tried to go to the Tri-spires?’’

Calebs face turned pale, staring at her silently.

Jester waited for a response but it was just… silence.

He looked scared.

‘’They’re really pretty, Caleb. I know when you look different people make you feel bad, but you shouldn’t! And I know you don’t like it when people look at you, like, at _all_ but the rest of us are like so super bright and stuff so no-ones even gonna notice if you’re eyes are kinda different.

Caleb swallowed, looking down at his hands, smoothing out the bandage he’d been picking at.

‘’Ah- thank you Jester- It’s um, they’re unusual so – it’s more of a reflex, really. It unnerves people – I suppose.’’

‘’I bet Molly would like them, though.’’ Caleb looked up to her, eyes a little confused.

‘’Ah – um, Perhaps?’’

‘’Maybe you should show him sometime?’’ Jester prompted, nudging into him with her shoulder. He gives her a terse smile.

‘’Perhaps, Jester. But… I doubt it. I find most people are just… disconcerted. As long as I can keep my glamour - up it is not something that uh… bothers me.’’ Jester smiled, turning to look at Beau who was glaring at smirking Molly.

‘’They are uh, rather entertaining, ja?’’ Caleb said, following her gaze, a warm tone in his voice.

‘’Do you think she likes him? One of my books had this couple that were like always fighting and bickering and stuff but then they’d get down and dirtayy’’ Jester said with a giggle, turning back to Caleb, who was looking at her with confused surprise

‘’Beau and Molly? Um no. Definitely not. I don’t think Molly is…. Quite her type.’’ Jester nodded astutely, yeah that made sense.

‘’What do you think _Molly’s_ type is though?’’

‘’I – wouldn’t presume to know.’’ He said, an obvious blush rising on his pale cheeks.

‘’Maybe we should find out, Caleb. Only one way to find out!’’ Jester spun on her bar stool, to face Molly.

‘’Hey Molly! What’s your type?’’

‘’Oh mein gotter.’’ She heard Caleb groan quietly, burying his head in hands. Molly looked up, eyebrow arched curiously as he tilted his head.

‘’Well… I suppose I like… intelligent, passionate people. But then, you know me. I’m for anything.’’ He said, with a familiar wink. Jester nodded astutely, spinning back on her barstool. Caleb looked like he wanted to just… explode.

‘’Jester! Why did you do that?’’ he hissed quietly, his face on fire.

‘’Why not?’’ Jester shrugged, ‘’It’s what we were just chatting about, right?’’

‘’No – no of course, why would I care about Mr Mollymauk’s uh – ‘type’ – right.’’ Caleb nodded, avoiding eye contact with Jester, he snapped Frumpkin into his arms, slipped off his chair and slunk out of the bar. Jester giggled, feeling an approving and familiar presence settle over her, a flash of green out the corner of her eye. This was gonna be fun.

-

Eodwulf doesn’t visit as much he should. He and Astrid had tried so hard to find a way to fix him, but there was nothing magic in Bren’s despondency. He just got scared, or aggressive when they tried to cast on him. He just needed time.

So they were just waiting.

They don’t go see him much.

Astrid hasn’t seen him in years.

But then, Eodwulf doesn’t see Astrid much these days either. All he hears from her is rumours about her growing power, her growing position. In the back of his mind, he still thinks of the eternity he has to spend with them – when Bren is better, and when their duty to the empire doesn’t end - because their loyalty lasts forever - but abates, perhaps. When they defeat the kriks, ensure the safety and security of the empire. Then they’ll be together again. And the late, lonely nights planning and scheming and all the fighting will be worth it. All the pain will be worth it.

This stays in his mind as he lands outside the sanatorium. He hides his face under a hood, though they all know him – perhaps it’s as some imitation of secrecy, some acknowledgement that he should be strong enough to forget about Bren, that he must hide in shame that he still loves him. He allows the mask strength and business to settle on his face as he approaches, when he sees Bren the mask will be dropped, but these people can’t see his weakness.

When the guard on the gate sees him, his face goes pale.

‘’Bring me to him.’’ He says, at the recognition in the man’s face. He stutters something meaningless, panicked, before scampering off with a promise to fetch his manager. Eodwulf scowled, tapping his foot restlessly and folding his arms. He is tired and stressed and just wants to see Bren, which in itself is an exhausting ordeal.

A few moments later, the guard returns, followed by the warden of this place, Wilhelm something-or-other, a nervous, sweaty man, dressed in handsome, expensive clothes. He’s had more than enough unpleasant experiences with this man. Always a fan of complaining about how expensive Bren is to keep and keep secret, needling them for more money. Of course, he’d pay anything to keep Bren happy, but he didn’t fail to notice the more money they gave, the more tacky jewels would adorn his fingers.

Eodwulf can hear his heart pounding – the Warden is more nervous than usual tonight. He has no time for this.

‘’Master Eodwulf, I hope the evening finds you well-‘’

‘’-Enough. Why are we speaking?’’

‘’Well, I- there was an incident – perhaps we ought to speak in my office?’’

‘’Perhaps we should speak in Bren’s room, Wilhelm.’’ He said, stepping past the man and making his way towards the door.

‘’He’s gone!’’ Eodwulf froze. Facing the stone exterior of the sanatorium, thoughts slowed to a complete stop. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth he breathed for just a moment. When sense returned to him, he spoke.

‘’What do you mean. _He’s gone_?’’ He asked, voice dangerous and icy.

‘’He- he overpowered the guard, Ikithon’s man -he killed him and fled. There was nothing we could do…’’

‘’You are telling me that not only is a mentally unstable frenzied vampire roaming the countryside, but the man I have paid you thousands of gold to keep safe is _gone!_ ’’ His voice raises to a shout as he practically shakes with fury. He can almost taste the fear in the men around him. Good. He relishes in it. It’s the least they can do.

He is met by silence.

‘’You do not defend yourself. I shall take that as admittance to your _incredible_ failure.’’ He hisses through gritted teeth. He breathes again. His blood is boiling but he needs to focus. He needs to find Bren.

‘’How long ago was this?’’ Perhaps he can track him, pick up on the scent-

‘’Three weeks past.’’ He hears Wilhelm admit quietly. Gods above! The scent will have gone – the trail cold. No hope. He turns, slowly approaching Wilhelm.

‘’And you didn’t see it fit to inform me?’’ And his voice is _ice_.

‘’Well – I, the incident, accident – we had to-‘’ His excuses are cut off suddenly as Wulf’s arm shoots from his cloak, seizing the man by his throat, raising him off the ground.

‘’I can’t allow you to fail me again.’’ With a burst of magic, he summons fire- Bren’s fire – in his hands and burns and burns until this useless weak man is no more. He throws the body to the side like a limp ragdoll, and turns to the guard watching, eyes wide in terror.

‘’You! Bring me to Ermendrud’s room. Perhaps I can salvage something from this mess.’’

-

Jester has a plan. And, like all her plans, it’s going absolutely _flawlessly_. Well. Maybe that’s an exaggeration.

In the next town Jester had found a cute little boutique and dragged Molly and Caleb along, both having mentioned needing the odd bit of new clothes but she’d roped them in into being an audience for her to try on just a whole bunch of pretty dresses.

Caleb was useless, molly was just unhelpful – told her she looked beautiful in everything. Well, Jester already knew that! She couldn’t buy _everything_ in this store!

Jester turned, examining the back of this new dress, a white bodice with puffy sleeves, embroidered with silver leaves that spread out into a purple skirt, pushed up by petticoats, the embroidery exploding into bright coloured flowers.

‘’What do you think of this one!’’ She exclaimed as she ripped the curtain open.

‘’Absolutely gorgeous darling, you look great in my colours.’’ He said with a wink. She turned expectantly to Caleb, with a little flouncy spin. He looked at her blankly before stammering out a weak compliment.

Jester rolled her eyes, turning back to the mirror in the dressing room, to admire herself.

‘’Did you two find anything interesting at least?’’ Caleb held up an exceptionally boring blue scarf, a near replica of the one he already wore, just a little warmer.

‘’Caaayleb! Didn’t we talk about you being less boring?’’ She said, hands on her hips. ‘’I mean when you’re next to Molly who’s even gonna notice you?’’ She saw Molly wince a little – perhaps she’d been a bit rude again… but even so, she wanted the best for Caleb, wanted Molly to fully notice him.

‘’Molly why don’t you pick something out for Caleb?’’ She said, closing the curtain to try another – this time a dark red that clung to her soft curves, a large bow jutting out at the back. Admiring herself, she

‘’Oh Mr Caleb I’m sure you’d _love_ my tailor, get you all decked out in some carnival gear – you know I’ve always thought we should get you a proper wizard hat- you know, tall and pointy? Some felt stars?’’ Molly’s voice was light, soft.

‘’Oh ja, I think I saw I nice brown trench coat, I could go drop it outside and let Frumpkin nap on it – you know, if you’d like to try my style.’’

‘’Wow that’s nearing a joke, I’m proud Mr Caleb.’’ Jester smiled at this playful banter, hearing their voices drift around the store. Small steps, but steps still. Jester feels that comforting, exciting presence as a voice whispers in her ear –

‘’I think your audience might be… distracted, for now – I’d go for the purple.’’

-

Eodwulf owed his master everything – he was his teacher, his sire, he owed him loyalty above all else, but the truth was – he didn’t exactly _enjoy_ speaking to him. Especially if there was a risk of angering him. And gods only knew how Trent Ikithon would respond to this.

He’d tried to track Bren’s scent; but it had been _weeks_ since Bren had escaped, they’d already cleaned up his rooms and disposed of the body. _Idiots._ The trail was ice cold.

Then he’d tried everything arcane at his disposal to find him. His Messages went unanswered, his attempts at scrying come up blank. Bren was too far away for Locate Creature to work. Somehow, something was concealing Bren. Eodwulf’s mind raced; had someone taken him? Some religious crackpot hunting vampires, an enemy of the dynasty – an enemy of Trent?

He was out of options.

He had to tell Trent.

Which was why he now found himself pacing nervously outside Trent’s offices at the Cerberus assembly, revising the script for how he would explain to Trent exactly what happened.

He froze, suddenly, halfway through a pace, as a familiar scent recognising a familiar scent.

‘’Eodwulf?’’

Well – he supposed he wasn’t really out of options, but facing Trent was easier than facing-

‘’Astrid.’’ Astrid looked unchanged, brown hair cropped close to her face, dressed in Assembly red robes – near half his size but her body radiating strength and power and presence. Eodwulf was afraid of Astrid, he loved her so much, but gods she scared him.

‘’It’s… been a while.’’ She said, voice a little stilted.

‘’Yes.’’

‘’Why are you here?’’

‘’I have business to discuss with Master Ikithon – you?’’

‘’Master Ikithon summoned me. Perhaps he has-‘’ Astrid’s voice was cut off by the heavy wooden doors swinging open, Trent’s footman appearing behind it, who gestured wordlessly for them to enter, bowing his head. They shared a glance, straightening their backs and uniform, and stepped silently into the dark office of the Archmage.

Their teacher held up a finger, not sparing them a look, or looking up from what he was writing.

‘’A moment, please.’’ He said quietly, almost instinctually they folded their arms behind their backs, feet shoulder-width apart – they’d spent hours stood at attention waiting for their master to speak.

A moment later he looked up, his immortal skin showing his centuries, jaundiced and cracked from age. A rare smile crossed his face, for just a second. It was still a smile that sent shivers down his spine.

‘’My children. It has been too long, but forgive your old sire his sentimentality, I know you do the empire proud with your service. Eodwulf, you came to talk - speak.’’ Eodwulf swallowed.

‘’Master, I have my own sentimentalities, after we lost him - I visited Bren, when my schedule permitted. This last time I found him gone. Your man was killed, and Bren escaped. I killed the Warden for his incompetence but by the time I coincidentally visited, he was three weeks gone and his scent was cold – I have tried everything in my power to find him but he is hidden by some magic, with Bren’s instability there would be reports of his blood frenzy – I fear he is held by an enemy.’’

Eodwulf stayed looking straight ahead, trying to remain as calm as possible, he could feel Astrid’s shocked eyes on him.

Trent was leant back in his big chair, hands folded in his lap. A small smile crossed his face.

‘’So – it seems our Bren has finally regained some of his power. I forgive your sentimentality, Eodwulf, Bren is your blood, and that is an unavoidable loyalty. I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, Eodwulf – however, Bren absconding from his… facility was known to me. Perhaps this shall be good for him – Bren has spent too long… languishing. I am interested to see what he does next.’’

‘’Master – what if it’s the dynasty, Bren is more than unstable, who knows what they could-‘’ Astrid started, her voice panicked. Ikithon held his hand up to halt her, the smile returning to his face.

‘’Enough, Astrid. Bren is too valuable an investment to be destroyed, or fall into the wrong hands. But you two both are young, have yet to grasp the concept of eternity. Bren will return to us, one way or another, and it may take a hundred years, it may take longer but trust that the blood I gave you is strong enough to bind us together, for eternity. If the need arises, I will intervene. But for now… let us see how this plays out, yes?’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bit of vague ‘plot’ takes place in the weird amalgamous place many fics do, stretching out the time before the Iron Shepherds/Molly’s death really long.  
> Also – spent ages looking for Eodwulf’s last name, because I’m sure I’ve heard it before, like something beginning with D? is there one or am I just remembering something from a fic?   
> Also Also I’ve never really written romance before (can you tell by how much I’m trying to avoid it?) But I need some of that tasty widowmauk for plot reasons and also, I enjoy it very much.  
> Also Also Also, does anyone else, like, perform their writing when editing? Do some dramatic monologuing as you type?


End file.
